Pieces
by Kairianna864
Summary: All that was left of him were the broken pieces of who he once was; he needed someone to help put him back together and she was willing to try. TXR


**AN: Ok, so some of my readers may want to kill me right now! I know I should be focusing on my other stories, but I have writers block for them. This was just something that I came up with after watching some Gilmore Girls episodes with Tristan; I loved him and was so sad to see him go! So this is what I would want to happen after the show ended. Please review and let me know if you like it because I am seriously considering continuing this story, but I only will if people like it. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or the song "Pieces"; they are just my inspiration for this story!**

_January 15, 2009_

Rory Gilmore rushed through the doors of the Boston Globe with a coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Since she had started writing for the Globe, right after the 2008 presidential campaign, she was always in a hurry. However, she wasn't going to complain; it was her dream job. In the short two months she had been with the Globe they had already sent her to Israel, Niger, Kenya, and India to cover various stories. She was…well happy.

Rory quickly made her way to her office, stopping at her secretary's desk. "Hey, Sarah. Do I have any messages?"

Sarah looked up from her work and smiled at Rory. "Yes, you do, Miss Gilmore." She picked up a piece of paper that she had jotted the message down on. "Your mother called and would like to know where her rhinestone skirt disappeared to and why you won't answer your cell phone."

Rory grinned, "Thanks, Sarah. And how many times to I have to tell you to call me Rory?"

Sarah blushed, "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting."

Rory smiled softly, "It's all right. I'm going to finish working on this article before Jefferson has a fit."

Rory turned and walked into her office. It was still weird to think that _she _had an office. It even had her name on the door. She set her stack of papers on her desk and got to work on her article.

Twenty minutes later, with the article finished, she picked up her cell phone to call her mom.

After four rings her voicemail picked up, "Hello, you've reached Lorelai Gilmore, soon to be Lorelai Danes. Or maybe I should hyphenate my name. Lorelai Gilmore-Danes? Nah, it sounds weird. Anyway, please leave a message and I will get back to you, if I like you. If you're my daughter, who has not been answering my calls, serves you right that I didn't answer you."

After the beep Rory said, "Wow, could that be any longer? And what did you do, change that this morning? But yes, I do have your skirt and I will bring it back the next time I come to visit you. I'm also sorry that I didn't answer you. My phone died this morning. Call me later so we can actually talk."

As soon as she set her phone down Patrick Jefferson walked through her office doors. He was a tall, middle aged man with graying hair. He was also Rory's boss. He had been impressed with her writing over the campaign and jumped at the chance of having her work for the Boston Globe.

"Gilmore, I have a new assignment for you," Patrick stated, tossing a file onto her desk.

Rory smiled, "Where to this time; China, Russia, or maybe South America?" She loved leaving the country on such short notice; it kept her life exciting.

"Nope, Boston's VA hospital," he said pointing to the file. "A wounded soldier was flown in about two months ago. He and his unit saved four Afghan children by rushing into a burning building. However, the soldier and one of his friends were inside the building when it came down. His friend died on scene and the soldier you're going to interview is paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors are saying that he's difficult to reach."

Rory frowned, "Why are you sending me?"

Patrick smiled, "Rory, not only are you beautiful, and let's face it a soldier who's been out in the desert with a bunch of guys for two years wouldn't mind being interviewed by you, but you're also very compassionate and empathetic; it's just what this guy needs right now. Plus it seems that you two are from the same area; he's originally from Hartford."

"Really?" Rory asked surprised.

"Yup, his name is Tristan DuGray."

"_So I'd kiss you goodbye, but your boyfriend's watching. Have a nice life, Mary."_

"Did you say Tristan DuGray?" Rory questioned. She wasn't sure if she had heard him right.

Patrick nodded, "Yeah, why? Do you know him?"

"Yes…well, no. I used to know him," Rory stammered, still in shock at the news that preppy Tristan DuGray had spent two years in a desert. "We went to the same prep school for about a year. I haven't seen him in seven years."

"Well, this would be a good chance for a reunion," Patrick smiled and headed for the door. "Take your time with the article."

Rory nodded as he left. When the door closed she carefully opened the file Patrick had given her. The first page was an over view of the accident with a picture in the corner of a man dressed in a National Guard uniform with the same hypnotic blue eyes of Tristan DuGray.

_I'm here again  
>A thousand miles away from you<br>A broken mess  
>Just scattered pieces of who I am<em>

Tristan DuGray stared out the window of his hospital room. The cocky teenager was gone; in its place were the broken pieces of man. His eyes were empty and he felt as if he had no emotion or reason to live. No, he didn't care that the doctors were saying there was only a small possibility that he would ever be able to use his legs again. He didn't care that he may never be able to walk, run, or dance. He didn't care about _anything_.

He heard the sound of a door open and close, but refused to look over to see who it was. He didn't care who it was.

"Hey, Tristan," the voice of his friend, Tyler, broke into his thoughts.

Tristan moved his head on his pillow so that his gaze landed on Tyler. Tyler stood near the bottom of his bed with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He seemed uncomfortable.

"I came to say goodbye," Tyler blurted out. He had always been very blunt. "I'm being shipped back overseas…Iraq this time."

Tristan frowned, "You reenlisted?"

Tyler nodded and kept his eyes on the floor, "Yeah, after what happened with Jared…I just feel like I need the closure. He would have wanted me to continue serving; he was patriotic, you know."

Tristan closed his eyes and swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. Maybe there was one thing that he cared about; his best friend Jared Brandon.

"I also came by because the doctor said that you weren't doing your physical therapy. Why not, man?"

Tristan turned back to face the window. "What's the point?"

"The point?" Tyler came to stand in front of the window, forcing Tristan to look at him. He was pissed, but Tristan didn't care. "The point is that you have your whole life ahead of you. Dude, you're twenty-four. Do you really want to stay paralyzed for the rest of your life? You're not even going to try?"

"I'm just going to die anyway. Might as well be sooner rather than later," Tristan said nonchalantly. "Besides, no one cares about me anyway. The only people who ever did are dead."

Tyler looked as he had been slapped, "I care about you, man. You, me, and Jared were best friends and he may be gone, but that doesn't mean you stop trying."

Tristan looked away and stared at the ceiling.

"Ok, so don't do it for me or even yourself," Tyler paused. "Do it for her."

Tristan frowned in confusion, "Who?"

"That girl you never shut up about in military school," Tyler answered. "The one that said you were a better person than you let anyone see. I think you said her name was Mary."

"_You make it impossible for anyone to be nice to you. No wonder you had to join our group; anyone who's actually suffered through the experience of going out with you would absolutely know better"_

Tristan winced before glaring at Tyler. "She hated me. She probably through a party to celebrate when I left Chilton."

"But that hasn't stopped you from thinking about her all these years," Tyler said quickly as he backed away towards the door. "Be the man that she deserved."

After that he walked out of the room, leaving Tristan alone with tears forming in his eyes.

_I tried so hard  
>Thought I could do this on my own<br>I've lost so much along the way_

Rory was standing outside of the VA hospital, preparing herself for reuniting with the one boy who made her first year at Chilton a living hell. However, she wasn't sure what to expect; would he be different? How damaged was he after serving in Afghanistan for two years? Would he even want to see her?

Before she came to the hospital she read through the entire file that Patrick had given her twice. He had graduated from military school a year early with honors; she always knew that he was smarter than he let on. He had served one year in Afghanistan from August of 2002 to September 2003; the year she spent as a senior, he had been fighting in a foreign country. When he came back he started working for a degree in architecture at Brown University. Three years later he was deployed back to Afghanistan for two years until he was injured.

Rory took a deep breath before pushing her way through the doors of the hospital. She made her way up to the third floor and walked over to the reception desk.

"Hi," Rory greeted the receptionist with a smile.

The older woman gave her a warm smile in return. "Hi, honey. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a patient named Tristan DuGray," Rory said nervously. "We used to go to school together and I heard that he had been in an accident."

"Just give me a moment," the woman said as she began typing on her computer. It was a few seconds before she disclosed, "He's in room 324. That's right down the hall to your left."

"Thank you so much," Rory sighed.

She quickly made her way down the hall and stopped outside of room 324. There were windows into the room and she watched the man inside. He stared straight ahead of him without moving a muscle. Rory didn't think that he had seen her, so she just admired him.

He was older; he'd grown even more handsome since high school. His hair was shorter than it had been in high school, but it was longer than it was in the photo she had in her file. He was different, but what struck her was that he seemed to lack all emotion and his ever present arrogant look was gone.

"Are you going to go in?"

Rory turned to her left. There was a redheaded nurse standing there giving her a small smile. Her name tag read Megan.

Rory smiled sadly, "I want to, but it's so hard seeing him like this."

Megan looked into the room at Tristan. She sighed, "I've been trying to get him to open up since he got here, but he refuses. He barely even says anything to me or the doctors. He won't even try physical therapy. He's just so lost…"

Rory felt a tear fall down her cheek.

"How do you know him?" Megan asked quietly.

"We went to high school together before he got shipped off to military school," Rory replied. Her tears continued to fall. She laughed quietly, "He was a complete jackass to me and here I am crying for him."

"Maybe he was a jackass because he liked you," Megan offered. "And maybe you're crying because deep down you know that he liked you and you never gave him a chance."

Rory looked at Tristan. He was now gazing out the window. "Maybe," Rory admitted.

"What's your name?" Megan questioned.

"Rory Gilmore," she replied.

Megan smiled, "I'll go in and see if he's up to a visitor."

"Thank you," Rory said, smiling back.

Megan reached out and gave Rory's arm a light squeeze before walking into Tristan's room, propping the door open. Then she walked over to Tristan's bed.

"Tristan, you have a visitor," Megan informed him.

Tristan didn't even look at her as he answered her. "I don't want to see anyone."

"She says you went to high school together," Megan offered.

Tristan frowned. _Could it be?_ He shook his head and closed his eyes; it wouldn't be her, no reason to get his hopes up. He hadn't seen her in seven years, so why in the hell couldn't he get her out of his head?

"Her name's Rory Gilmore."

Tristan's eyes shot open and whipped his head to the nurse standing next to his bed. "What?"

The nurse smiled before heading to the door and walking out. As she left another woman entered the room.

_Then I see your face  
>I know I'm finally yours<br>I find everything, I thought I lost before  
>You call my name, I come to you in pieces<br>So you can make…me whole_

Rory Gilmore. _Mary_.

Her hair was no longer pin straight as it had been in high school; it was styled in loose curls and was shorter as well. She dressed professionally and carried herself with the same confidence as she had back then.

He sat there in shock as she came to a stop near his bed. She was _crying_ or had been; she tried to hide it, but he could tell by the way her beautiful blue eyes shined like glass. Had she been crying because of him?

She smiled the same beautiful smile that he remembered and said, "Hi."

Tristan stared at her for a moment longer before murmuring, "Are you real?"

She laughed slightly, nodding her head, "Yeah, I'm real, Tristan."

And for the first time in two months he smiled, "It's good to see you, Mary."

Rory laughed and shook her head, "Seven years and you still haven't learned my name." Inside she was incredibly happy to hear her old nickname. It had irritated her to no end in high school, but after so long of not hearing it she realized that she had missed it. She sat down on the edge of his bed and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I've always been horrible with names," Tristan sighed. Then he couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing here, Rory?"

Rory looked down at her hands before looking back into his dull blue ones. He was so different; he had tried to be the old Tristan for a minute, but the new, sad version was clawing its way back to the surface. "The truth?" she asked.

Tristan nodded.

"I'm a reporter for the Boston Globe," she confessed, with a somewhat guilty expression on her face. "My boss wanted me to do an article over a soldier who saved four children from dying in a fire in Afghanistan."

Tristan closed his eyes, fighting back the memories that threatened to come to the surface. He had forced himself not to think about that day for two months.

Rory quickly noticed his discomfort and added, "But if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. I wouldn't mind just sitting here."

Tristan shook his head, "No, I'll talk about it, but only to you."

Rory reached out and took his large hand in her smaller ones and he felt the same electric shock he had felt back at Madeline's party when they kissed for the first and last time; even though Rory had refused to admit it, she had felt the spark too when they kissed. She also felt it every time she touched him. He looked into her eyes and didn't see hate, as she had claimed to feel towards him once, he didn't see irritation or annoyance. He saw compassion and caring. He gripped her hand tightly; he felt that at any moment she may disappear and leave him all alone again.

"Do you need to take notes?" he asked. He had never been interviewed and wasn't sure how it was supposed to go.

Rory shook her head. "I think I can remember."

Tristan nodded. His grip on her hand loosened, but did not release it. He took a deep breath before beginning.

"It was back in November. I had just found out that me and my friends, Tyler and…Jared were being sent home. We had been friends since military school and had enlisted together. Anyway, we had one more mission to complete: a unit was stranded in town, their truck's engine stopped working. Jared, Tyler, and I were put on guard duty as the mechanics tried to fix the truck. That's when a bomb went off on the second floor of a nearby building. I was the closest person to it and I could hear children screaming. Without waiting for orders Jared and I ran over to the building. We asked permission from our general to enter the building and when he gave the OK we went inside. There were four children huddled together in the back corner of the building. We were able to get them out the door and stayed behind to see if there was anyone else," Tristan stopped. Rory noticed that he was crying, though she didn't think he realized it.

"Before we knew what was happening the roof collapsed," Tristan whispered. He kept his eyes on their clasped hands. "I felt a sharp pain in my back then nothing; everything went black."

He brought his eyes up to meet her bright blue ones. "When I woke up I was in this hospital. The doctor told me there was a very small chance that I'll ever walk again. When I asked about Jared they told me he died on the scene; broken neck," Tristan released a small cry at the end.

"He shouldn't have died; it should have been me. I'm the one who doesn't have a family who cares about him. I'm the one who doesn't have a fiancé," Tristan cried. "Jared had that. Why did he have to die? He had so much to live for."

Rory placed her hands on each side of his face. She used her thumbs to gently brush away his tears. "I don't know why he died, but you lived for a reason. It may be hard to believe now, but soon you'll find that reason," Rory smiled through her own tears. "And you do have someone who cares about you."

Tristan shook his head in disbelief, "You hate me."

Rory shook her head at him, "No, I don't. You challenged me, Tristan. I was scared to let you in, so I pushed you away. I said I hated you because you frustrated me. But I don't hate you; I do care about you."

Tristan felt tears return to his eyes, "Rory…"

His voice conveyed how much pain he had been holding in for the last two months, and possibly even longer than that. Rory leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him and let him cry into her shoulder; finally releasing all of that pain.

_I've come undone  
>But you make sense of who I am<br>Like puzzle pieces in your hand_

_Then I see your face  
>I know I'm finally yours<br>I find everything, I thought I lost before  
>You call my name, I come to you in pieces<br>So you can make…me whole_


End file.
